Felici's Mansion
by Loreyulia
Summary: Free pasta? Count Italy in! Wait... that house looks kinda creepy. What do you mean it's haunted? Romano's missing, and Italy has to go save him! Oh dear, what has the poor guy got himself into...? A very crack-tastic Hetalia/Luigi's Mansion crossover.


**Felici's Mansion**

Chapter One

Free pasta, and Spaniards, and Ghosties oh my!

"Veeee~ t-these-a trees look-a kinda scary..." Young Italy states aloud, his teeth chattering in impending terror as his trusty flashlight sweeps ahead of him, illuminating the darkness. He sticks the silver flashlight in the crook of his armpit and brings out a crinkled piece of paper from the depths of his pockets. The piece of paper coincidently is a map, and Italy uses his gloved finger to trace the red line that symbolizes the path he was on, all the way to the final destination.

 **FREE PASTA** is written in bold letters, surrounded by little tomato stickers and glitter glue. Italy smiles brightly as he tucks the map away and looks down the narrow, dusty road he has traveled upon. He gulps and works up another trembling fit. Italy can't quite believe the sight that meets his closed eyes.

 _Really... I wanna know how this guy can see when his eyes are closed all the damn time! A-anyway..._

Little Italy finds that the narrow road leads to... A BIG, SCARY FUCKING MANSION? what the hell...

"V-veeeee, that-a doesn't look-a like-a free pasta to me," Italy quivers as lightning flashes ominously behind the big scary fucking mansion thingy. "B-but," Italy begins to reason with himself, "maybe the free pasta is-a inside." So, gathering up the courage that only free pasta can give him, Italy shuffles his way up to a set of wrought iron gates- completely ignoring the fact that there is a shabby looking shack beside him with a light on in inside...

Placing his designer glove covered hand on the rusty gate, Italy hesitantly pushes it open and cringes as it creaks loudly on its run down hinges. Italy tip-toes toward the stairs, but jumps and screams when two black crows caw loudly upon a nearby branch. Clenching his fingers onto the cute green button down shirt he has on under his Prada overalls, Italy wills himself to calm his shit.

"Veeeee~" he dispels for no particular reason as he starts his ascent up the stairs. He stops before a huge wooden door that has the same kind of iron the gate is made of, wrapped all along its borders. Italy slowly makes his trembling hand take hold of the bronze doorknob. The knob sticks for a moment before it gives, and the door swings open slowly, the light of Italy's flashlight weakly pours in through the crack as he mutters a single, "C-caio..."

Italy steps inside and sweeps his light left and right. He mutely takes in the sight of a grand staircase that leads up on both sides of an archway to an overhanging balcony. The light glints off of... glowing thorns? _no... just no... I can't even explain that one._ Anyway, the glowing thorns pulsate around the wooden door that they are wrapped around.

Making a small squeaking sound, Italy sucks up what little courage he possesses and walks up the stairs on the left side. Now that he is on the second floor of the foyer, Italy is met with another pair of double doors. So Italy does what any protagonist in a horror genre would do... he tries to open the door.

He is met with a very much locked door and eerie giggles that echo around the room. Letting out a shriek of terror, Italy bolts down the stairs as he waves his signature white flag of surrender. Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, Italy shrieks again as he comes face to ectoplasmic face with an orange blob that has a... key? A fucking key floating in the middle of it...

The blob makes an indiscernible noise as it floats away toward the double doors above, promptly scaring the pants off of poor little Italy! The key somehow lands conveniently in front of him.

Doing the 'sensible' thing, Italy scoops up the ancient golden key. _'Cuz you know, running away from a creepy mansion at the first signs of no free pasta and orange blob things isn't sensible at all..._ as Italy picks up the key he turns to god knows who and flashes a glittery peace sign while a strange jingle plays somewhere in the background that sounds suspiciously like Canon in D.

So, for reasons that only pertain to plot fodder, Italy OOC's his way up the stairs all while the camera very dramatically clips away to a high budget cutscene all for the sake of opening a door. Upon entering this new room, faded white letters spell out ' _Parlor_ ' at the top left by Italy's head, but he pays it no mind.

Out of no where, the orange blob thing reappears in front of Italy and screeches the blobby song of its people, effectively scaring the Italian shitless. Italy shrieks and falls gracefully on his ass, already waving his white flag spastically over his head. Readying its orange, transparent arms, the blobby thing makes to end poor Italy's life, when a courageous battle cry resounds from some obscure corner of the room.

"For Hugo Chavez!" A tall, tan man cries as he weilds a... vacuum cleaner? _WILL THE ABSURDITY EVER END?_ Anywho, said Mediterranean sex god switches the vacuum on and begins to suck the blob thing toward himself. The man strikes an epic pose and smiles so brightly it causes global warming. He almost has the orange baddie, when he gets distracted by a piece of dust that floats by his head.

"It's like, a floating piece of magic dirt man..." The strange man exclaims, before he is tossed backwards from the suction breaking. Landing painfully on his backside, the man closes one of his tomato stem green colored eyes, and rubs the back of his head sheepishly.

"Ah dios mio!" The man grumbles while standing and looking over to little Italy, who is weakly whimpering into the carpet and waving his white flag. The man begins to blabber on while laughing, "Hah, senior I sure do take a lot of knocks in this line of work." He leans down to Italy's level and helps the poor nation up.

Blinking his now opened eyes in surprise, a smile spreads across Italy's face as he cries, "Big-a brother Spain, you-a saved me!"

The man who has been called Spain stares down at Italy blankly as he replies, "Uh, sorry mi amigo... but I don't know you."

"W-what do you mean-a big brother Spain?" Italy questions, his smile falling a bit. But he is denied a response, because the orange blob thing reappears suddenly with two of its lackeys, and they make their way toward the two nations!

"Vaminos mi amigo!" Spain cries as he grabs onto Italy's green-sleeved arm, and drags him along.

-pasta-

"So your name is Feliciano? Awwww, that's such a cute name!" The Spaniard gushes as he hugs Italy and twirls him around.

"Ummmm, where-a are we Big-a brother Spain?" Italy whimpers as he takes in the ramshackle insides of the hut.

"Oh, heh heh heh... this is my bachelor pad/ghost hunting quarters. Isn't it like, the best?" Spain replies as he sets Italy down and flops down onto a moldy, lumpy looking cot.

"Yeah sure... totally the best."

"What brings you here little Feli?" Spain asks, now munching on a tomato that Italy isn't even sure he wants to know where it came from.

Letting out an exasperated cry, Italy fumes, "Why-a don't you-a remember me big brother Spain? It's-a me, North Italy!"

Spain suddenly jumps up from his lumpy seat and grabs Italy by his small shoulders and shakes him violently as he asks, "Wait, does that mean you know my little Lovi?"

"S-si, of course I do! He's-a my big brother remember?" Italy replies, trying his best not to start waving his trusty white surrender flag.

"I'm so worried," Spains starts to ramble, "little Lovi showed up here three days ago, I swear it was love at first sight! He looks like a cute tomato when he blushes... a-anyway, he came pounding on my door, yelling something about 'where's my free fucking pasta?' I told him I only have tomatoes, so he ate one and then went up to the mansion. I haven't seen him since."

Italy tears up and mumbles, "Veeeee~ so you're-a saying my fratello's been kidnapped?

Nodding, Spain responds, "I'm pretty sure of it mi amigo. Who wouldn't want him? He's just too cute!" With that, Italy dissolves into tears, causing Spain to sober up. "Hey," he murmurs, "don't worry, you'll find him. Here, I have a fantastico idea! Why don't I teach you how to use the 'Poltuirgust 3,000 ah? That way you can be armed against those big, bad ghosties!"

Sniffling a bit and wiping away his tears, Italy replies, "You mean that vacuum thingy?"

-pasta-

So, after a basic tutorial level via Antonio Fernandez Carriedo Ghost Hunter Extraordinaire, Italy is armed with his trusty flashlight, his white flag, and now the Poltuirgust 3,000. As he makes his way up the stone steps again, Italy is faced with the door that might possibly lead to hell...


End file.
